


No Need for the Niceties

by vissy



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M, Snape/Filch - Freeform, pornish pixies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-01
Updated: 2006-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-02 03:12:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vissy/pseuds/vissy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written during the June 2006 round of the <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/pornish_pixies/">Pornish Pixies</a> Fantasy Fest for <a href="http://hoskie.livejournal.com/">hoskie</a>, who requested <em>Filch/Snape, when Filch is bandaging Snape’s leg (blowjob?), can include blood play (but doesn’t have to), with Harry watching.</em></p>
    </blockquote>





	No Need for the Niceties

**Author's Note:**

> Written during the June 2006 round of the [Pornish Pixies](http://community.livejournal.com/pornish_pixies/) Fantasy Fest for [hoskie](http://hoskie.livejournal.com/), who requested _Filch/Snape, when Filch is bandaging Snape’s leg (blowjob?), can include blood play (but doesn’t have to), with Harry watching._

November was already nipping hard at Hogwarts; Argus blew a cloud with each breath as he stumped out of the Hospital Wing with an armful of bandages and a scowl across his face. Mrs Norris met him on the stairs and mewed enquiringly, and he said, “Don’t you fuss now, my sweet, I’ll get young Snape squared away all right. You get started on rounds and make sure the brats all stick to their common rooms and out of our hair. I’ll be along as quick as can be.” She looked about to make certain they were alone, then twined about his legs with kittenish affection before shooting upstairs and out of sight. “That’s my good girl.”

Argus trotted down the steps into the Great Hall and squinted up at the brilliant stars. It was a chill, clear evening and doubtless there’d be more slush tracked across his clean floors on the morrow, but for tonight he had a more important task on his mind; that hell-born half-wit of his had got himself into another scrape, and as usual it was up to Argus to clean up after him.

He crossed the cold flagstones with an impatient stride. It had to be nasty if Severus was asking for help; he was a deep one who brooked no interference from anyone, not even Dumbledore. Right pleased Argus’d felt to receive Severus’ note; it gave him a silly glow, it did, to know he could still do for the lad after all these years when every other body got rudely shown the way out.

He reached the staffroom and gave a smart rap at the door. There was a faint grunt from within, so he shoved his way in, calling out an “Evening, Professor!” as he latched the door behind him.

“No need for the niceties,” was the soft, wry reply. Argus looked about and spied Severus lurking in the dark alcove by the window. “We are quite alone.”

“And you don’t need anything nice?” Argus asked. He dumped the bandages on a table near the fireplace and turned his back to the flames, letting his gnarled fingers soak up the warmth. “Then I don’t mind telling you it’s colder’n a witch’s tit out there.”

He got no smile for his trouble and didn’t expect one, but it was enough to draw Severus out from the shadows. He moved slowly towards the fireplace; his face was drawn and white, and his usual grace was broken by a sick lurch. It fractured Argus’ poor heart to see it, but he didn’t let on, just gestured with a rough nod to one of the dark, wooden chairs; there were cosier seats in the staffroom, to be sure, but they wanted one that wouldn’t stain.

Severus paused to pick up a bandage and Argus swatted it from his hand with a growl. “Just you bench yourself, all right?” he said, pushing Severus down onto the seat. “I’m the caretaker here, if you please. Now let’s have a look at you.”

“It’s not pretty,” Severus muttered. Argus eased with a crack to his knees and waited expectantly for Severus to raise his robes, but Severus sat still and tense.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” said Argus finally. “And that’s what you get for tussling with that beast on the third floor. Thought you had better sense than that.” His hands still held some of the fire’s heat and he pressed them up between the dark, heavy folds of Severus’ outer robe, pushing them back over Severus’ thighs. He smirked a little to feel the tell-tale flutter beneath his hands as the legs slid apart, because Severus wasn’t an easy make, not by a long margin, but he’d ease up for Argus all right, every time.

“I suppose you think I’d have been better off in the troll’s company?”

He looked up to find a gleam in Severus’ black peepers, the kind of gleam that made Argus think he might get a boot in his side if he wasn’t too careful. Argus gave Severus’ thighs a squeeze, then a light smack. “What I think is you should leave the dirty work to some of the other pro-fes-sors for a change.” He grinned to hear Severus humph. “Yeah, I know you. Much as you’d like to watch from the stands, you don’t quite trust anyone else to get things done properly. And I can’t rightly blame you; pack of mugs in this joint.”

He knelt back on his haunches and reached for the hem of Severus’ inner robe, a sheath of thin, soft material, so dark he couldn’t see the bloodstains, although he could feel them all right, a crinkled tackiness between his fingers. He lifted the cloth carefully, wincing as it pulled away from Severus’ skin; his right calf was wrapped tight in a bandage sopping in blood, and both legs were spattered with rusty flakes.

Severus took the hem from him and held it across his lap, and Argus glanced up long enough to see his mouth tighten before he turned his attention to the bandage. Its end was tucked into the top near Severus’ knee; Argus pulled it free and unravelled its wet length as quickly as possible. His nostrils flared, irritated by the scent of iron and by the thought that Severus might’ve lost his whole ruddy leg and not one of that lot would’ve even noticed much less cared, so busy they were chasing after fool trolls and even more foolish students.

The last of the bandage came away grudgingly and Argus hissed to see the damage to the right leg. Severus had a slender pair of legs on him, but his calves hadn’t yet gone to grass; all the more mincemeat for the mongrel’s three muzzles. He shook his head; Severus had been near ottomised by that wretched dog, but he supposed it might’ve been worse. “Why you didn’t just take yourself off to Pomfrey, I don’t know,” he grumbled. “I’ve seen you limping around all day. Stubborn, that’s what you are. Should’ve spent the day in bed, you damned fool.”

“Would you have joined me?” Severus asked.

Argus snorted. “I like that! Last time I was there you kicked me straight back out again - and after I was so nice to you too. Called me a blasted wriggler, if I recall rightly. Huh! Fine one to talk, you who’s all poky elbows and knees.” He patted Severus’ left knee, a bony, chafed specimen if ever he’d seen one. “Besides, if we ever took a simultaneous sickie like that, you can be sure this place’d fall down about our ears before our heads hit the pillow, and then where would we be?”

“Probably no more uncomfortable than before,” Severus replied coldly, but Argus wasn’t fooled by that nonsense; he knew the weight of Severus’ sleeping body tucked up beside him better than he knew Mrs Norris’. He must’ve had a fond expression pasted on his face, because Severus shoved a basin of soapy, steaming water and a washcloth from the table at him and ordered, “Clean my legs.”

“Certainly, your highness,” said Argus, rolling his eyes. He took the uninjured leg onto his lap and scrubbed at the dried bloodstains. “You want the boots off too? Maybe I could lick them for you.”

“Unnecessary,” said Severus. He ground his heel in, just a bit, and Argus couldn’t hold back a yelp.

“Watch it with those great clodhoppers! You’ll unman me.” He pushed Severus’ left leg off his lap and reached for the other, drawing it forward with more care; there were four nasty great punctures in the meat of his calf, and the skin about them was torn where the dog had tried to take him down. “You got off relatively easy, looks like. You sure you can’t just - ”

“Magic it away?” asked Severus, looking disdainful as Argus waved his washcloth about composer-like. “And here I’ve been strolling about the school all day with gaping wounds when a simple wave of a wand would have sufficed to make all better. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“None of that, now. I’m just trying to help,” Argus grumbled, slapping the washcloth onto Severus’ skin. Severus’ grimace made him feel a bit guilty; it had been a low blow, the dig about magic, but Argus figured it was just the pain talking after all.

Severus sighed, sounding tired. “There’s an unusual anti-coagulent component in the dog’s saliva. I began brewing an antidote last night, but it had to steep all day if it was to develop enough potency to allow the wounds to heal.”

“It’s a wonder you managed to stay on your feet at all,” said Argus, dabbing gently at the mucky punctures. He didn’t bother wondering aloud why Severus, if he knew so much about dogspit, hadn’t prepared his little potion the moment the beast moved into the third floor corridor; Argus at least had some sense.

The water in the basin was murky by the time the leg was cleaned to Argus’ satisfaction, and the wounds looked raw and livid. Severus drew a phial from his robe and handed it to Argus, saying, “Apply it thoroughly, before I start bleeding again, if you please.”

“All right, all right,” Argus soothed. He unstoppered the phial and tipped it up in his hand; the remedy oozed out slowly, cool and pungent. As he rubbed it between his fingers he caught a whiff of camomile, but the rest escaped him; as for the feel of the stuff…”It’s a bit like that slick we use, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

“You really are giving an old man ideas now, aren’t you?” he teased. Unsurprisingly, he copped another boot heel in the nethers. “Oi, that hurts, damn you!”

“If you don’t apply the blasted ointment right now I’ll be more than happy to share some of my current discomfort. In fact, I’ll feed you to the beast myself.”

“Now, now, no need to be so pettish. Just you hold still while I sort you out,” said Argus in the placatory tone that only Severus could inspire. He daubed Severus’ skin with the ointment, wincing when the bite marks started frothing as if he’d soaked them in acid. There was an agonised hiss from Severus, and Argus paused and looked up quickly to see the lad panting through clenched teeth. “Should I stop?”

Severus shook his head until lank strands of hair veiled the pain in his face. “It’s supposed to react like that. Rub it all in and we’ll let the leg settle for a few minutes before wrapping it again.”

Argus continued coating the wounds with the vicious goo, trusting that Severus knew his business, although it made his own skin creep to see the hurt he was causing. Still, he couldn’t help but smile to hear that ‘we’ tossed out casual-like. He didn’t fool himself with a lot of romantic nonsense about Severus, and that just made the odd morsels he received even sweeter.

The frothing gradually lessened. Argus was pleased to hear Severus’ breathing ease too, and even more pleased to note it falling into a deliberate cadence he was very familiar with. The pain had roused Severus, no mistake; Argus could spot a hillock forming in the untidy folds of Severus’ robe where they bunched about his thighs, and it made his mouth water. “All done,” he said, shifting Severus’ leg gently from his lap and rising on his knees to reach for a clean bandage; Severus’ thighs splayed nice as you please to accommodate him and he crowded in close just to make them spread more. Severus slumped back in his chair until his arse found the edge of the seat, and Argus tugged a length of bandage between his fists, all mock menace as he said, “Now what’s to be done in the meantime?”

“Perhaps we might formulate plans for a triple beheading,” Severus murmured, guiding one of Argus’ hands to his lap.

Argus shoved the robe up higher until he revealed Severus’ balls, which the seat edge had plumped up nicely. That was more temptation than he could abide, and he pressed his face into Severus’ crotch, licking the provocative ridge of skin that divided his balls and nestling into the base of his prick as he nosed the robe slowly up and over the shaft. For all the cool nonchalance Severus tried on, his prick sprang free of the clothing with an eagerness that made Argus grin. He lifted Severus’ balls, making sure to press his fingers in behind them in a way that made Severus’ arse squirm, and slid the bandage beneath his sac, sidling it back and forth until he could hear the faintest rasp as the material brushed across Severus’ soft skin. “Now is that any way to talk about our good friend on the third floor? He spared my favourite parts when he went for your leg, after all.”

“Don’t think he didn’t try for the higher prize. How do you think I ended up bitten in the first place?” Severus tipped his head back, sighing gustily as Argus ducked his head down to mouth at the length of his prick. “Blasted thing. How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?” Argus’ tongue was too busy to answer what he took for a rhetorical question, and his eyes had dipped shut, so it was a rude shock when Severus suddenly yelled, “POTTER!”

Argus blinked and started as he got a faceful of robes, and by the time he dragged his head out of Severus’ lap, he wasn’t too surprised to discover they had some unwelcome company. A first year was standing just inside the staffroom door, and by the look on his face he’d copped an eyeful. It was Harry Potter, if Argus wasn’t mistaken; he remembered the sire well enough, the nasty little troublemaker, and it looked like this one would be following in his father’s footsteps. Potter gulped like a fish for a few moments, then had the gumption to say, “I just wondered if I could have my book back.”

Argus didn’t know what Severus hit the boy with, but it was quick and ruthless; Potter’s body went rigid and he fell back on his heels against the door with a soft thunk, shutting it behind him. Argus figured there’d be no more stupid questions out of this one for a while, nor would they have any more interruptions; Potter had been transformed into a rather effective door jam, and would doubtless end up with his brainbox scrambled by one of Severus’ memory spells for his trouble. Argus shook his head and said, “Mrs Norris could tell you a thing or two about curiosity, boy.”

He looked up at Severus, who wore a savage expression on his face as he snarled, “This one should be kept in a permanent body bind, for his own safety if not my sanity.”

Now there was a curse Argus wouldn’t mind having in his arsenal, particularly given that Dumbledore had forbidden him the use of manacles. Argus eyed Potter with interest, noting the stiff limbs and the shocky gaze. “Not one of your favourite students, I wager?”

“Potter’s too brainless to even warrant the title ’student’.”

“Still, you seem to enjoy the attention well enough,” said Argus slyly. He picked up the hem of Severus’ inner robe and pushed it up once more. Severus’ prick was standing up proud for their unwitting company, not the least bit bashful. “Look at you, then, shining on stage. Is it this kid in particular, or would any audience do? You don’t like things straightforward, do you? What a tart you are.”

“Just shut up and suck me before the whole school tries to traipse through here.”

“Oho, and we wouldn’t want that, eh?” Argus teased, before Severus pressed an insistent hand to the back of his neck and pulled him forward. Argus had to admit there was something rousing, even inspiring, about having a student’s eyes on him as he lapped at Severus’ prick with the flat of his tongue. It made him want to put on a decent showing of himself, but he knew they had to be quick about their business if they weren’t to be caught out by anyone else.

He wrapped a greasy mitt about the base of Severus’ prick; the ointment, when it wasn’t reacting violently with dogspit, really was like their usual slick, and it didn’t taste too bad either. He primed Severus up smartly, skinning his prick until his glistening knob peeked out, just begging to be suckled; he was rank with a day’s worth of cheese, and there was nothing Argus liked better than to lick his lad clean. He popped the swollen head in his mouth and wrapped his tongue about it, hollowing his cheeks; Severus lunged in his seat, his skinny hips straining, and his low voice crooning, “Take it, take it, damn you,” and Argus took down more, and more again. Beneath Severus’ hot-eyed glare and the Potter boy’s glassy stare, Argus swallowed Severus right down to the root, suckling hard until his bristles were catching against Severus’ pungent black pubic hair and he was fit to choke, and the roaring in his ears was so loud he could hardly Severus whisper, “Do you see him watching, old man? Do you like it?”

Argus did like it, he did, but he liked Severus even more, this gorgeous hot weight filling his mouth and clogging his throat, and he wondered at it, wondered that he could stay so hungry for it after so many years; it never palled, never, and surely Severus had him bewitched so that he always had to come back for more. But Severus wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t need to, because as impatient as he was, with no care for his body’s wants, so Argus cared for him, and cared hard. He pressed his sweaty brow into the low, tender curve of Severus’ belly, breathing heavy and wild as he rolled Severus’ balls in his hand and slid a finger up inside his tight bunghole to make him wail. Severus slipped even further in his seat, tilting his hips in a beseeching way he rarely gave voice to, and Argus worked another finger inside him, crooking them just so. It was Potter’s name Severus groaned when he came, but it was Argus’ throat he filled, and Argus swallowed every bitter drop; it mustn’t go to waste.

He sat back on his haunches before Severus could shove him away and swiped a hand across his wet mouth. The bandage was a snakey pile between Severus’ legs; Argus had meant to have a bit more fun with it, but perhaps there’d be another time. He picked it up, frowning; he wasn’t accustomed to thinking in terms of ‘perhaps’, but something about the Potter boy’s presence rattled him. He glanced over towards the door, where Potter still leant mid-topple; almost everything about him was rigid, down to the small stiffie in his trousers, but his mouth was rosy and lax. Severus was watching the boy too, with a narrowed gaze Argus couldn’t interpret; he could soon feel the passing of magic, though, like something out of the corner of his eye, and he almost wished Severus would perform the same trick on him too.

At last Severus dropped his robes back down primly over his legs, shouted, “GET OUT! _OUT_!” and the boy blinked and fled. In silence, Argus reached for a fresh bandage and began wrapping Severus’ wounds; he hoped the words were not meant for him.


End file.
